


Professional Courtesy

by KleptoElf



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27370087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KleptoElf/pseuds/KleptoElf
Summary: After a fight goes wrong, the Green Arrow seeks help from the only person he can trust: the Black Canary. Secrets are revealed, and a friendship is formed that will leave criminals wishing the pair had never met.
Kudos: 11





	1. Bloodied Beginnings

Maybe for the first time in her life, Dinah Laurel Lance was at a complete loss at what to do. She had never been one to run from her problems, but that was exactly what she wanted to do now, faced with a situation she was not prepared for. She felt like screaming, but there was no way her neighbours would appreciate the 3am wake up call. Plus, there was the whole metahuman thing, and Laurel really wanted to get her security deposit back. Her mouth formed words before her brain fully caught up.

“What the fuck?”

From the floor of her living room, stretched out on his back, the Green Arrow tilted his head to look at her, forming a weak smile with blood-stained teeth before dropping his head back to the ground and chuckling.

“It’s good to see you too, pretty bird. Hope you don’t mind me dropping by to see you on such short notice, but I was in the neighbourhood.”

Laurel froze. Ice curled in her veins at his words. He couldn’t know, could he? He couldn’t know her secret. That the light-hearted lawyer currently in grey sweatpants and an old college hoodie spent her nights beating up bad guys as a vigilante. That she was the Black Canary.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Questions were almost bubbling over inside her, threatening her usual collected façade. She wanted to know what had happened, why he was in her apartment, how he knew she was the Black Canary, and why he insisted on calling her that stupidly endearing nickname anyway after only meeting twice before. 

A groaning sound broke Laurel out of her stupor as the Green Arrow pushed himself up to lean against the wall, head resting just below the still open window he had so ungracefully pulled himself through about a minute before. His eyes were closed beneath the mask, though there were no clear signs of pain, a testament to his incredible levels of restraint, something that no doubt unnerved idiotic criminals when even their clear hits caused barely a reaction. When he spoke however, his voice was strained slightly.

“Look, I’m going to be straight with you, because I don’t think I have the capacity to make up an excuse to ask for your help.”

His eyes finally opened, bright blue meeting her vibrant green. Laurel could finally see the pain the man in front of her was in, though she suspected not all of it was physical. The serious look she saw was completely unlike the light-hearted vigilante she has encountered a few months before.

“I know you’re the Black Canary. I will answer any questions you have, but first, I could really use your help making sure I don’t bleed to death.”

With a jerk of his hand, the Green Arrow gestured down at his body. Laurel’s eyes followed, noticing for the first time the dark stains that marred the cloth-like armour he wore on his torso, and the broken, metallic-looking stick that had torn through his thigh. He was a mess, and Laurel could quickly confirm his assessment that if he didn’t get help soon, he would be lucky if he made it out of her apartment alive.

Laurel knew that she had no choice but to help him. It was in her nature to help those that needed it, even if they didn’t ask for it. It was the reason why she became the Black Canary, so that the vulnerable members of Star City wouldn’t have to spend all their time looking over their shoulder in fear that they would be preyed by the criminal underworld.

And there was no way she could turn down the man in front of her. Since his debut several months ago, where he had taken down a drug smuggling operation helmed by Martin Summers, who owned the Star City docks, he had proceeded to target a mixture of high-profile criminals as well as street thugs, even teaming up with Laurel’s alter ego to prevent a gang war on the streets of the Glades. While she didn’t appreciate or agree with all of his methods, Laurel had to admit that the Green Arrow was making Star City a safer place.

She knelt down next to the green-clad figure, moving the bow that laid at his side out of the way so she could get closer. 

“I’m going to have to get you out these clothes.” She said as she studied his wounds, being careful not to move him too much as dexterous fingers explored the area around his injured thigh. She now realised the object sticking through the muscle was a broken arrow shaft, not too dissimilar to the ones in the Green Arrow’s quiver, though this one was inky black in colour rather than dull green. 

“You’ve lost a decent amount of blood, probably from jostling the wounds as you came here, but I think the armoured leather of your jacket and the arrow shaft have prevented any further blood loss.”

“That was the idea when I designed it.” Came his reply. 

Laurel was glad he was being professional about the situation. She knew of a lot of men that would have made a joke about stripping down in front of her, and she half expected the Green Arrow, with his apparent care-free attitude to life, would be one of them. That would make patching him up a lot easier. 

“I’ll do my best with what I have. It won’t be perfect, but it’ll at least get you back on your feet. I can’t promise you’ll go back to beating up billionaires and thugs for a few weeks, though.”

Green Arrow snorted, instantly grimacing from a flash of pain that seemed to run through his body. 

“I thought I was the one who had the quips. What happened to sighing every time I made a joke out in the field?”

Laurel smiled softly, hands moving up to study the holes in his jacket that looked suspiciously like they too were caused by an arrow impaling the vigilante. He must have pulled them out at some point before entering her apartment.

“Maybe you’ve finally started to rub off on me.”

She stood, brushing invisible dirt from her hands as she looked down at him.

“I need to get my medical bag from my room. I’d say wait here but I don’t think you really have a choice in your state.”

Green Arrow chuckled, closing his eyes again and relaxing against the wall. Laurel could almost convince herself that he was completely at peace. It was slightly unnerving. 

His eyes snapped open, however, hand reaching for his bow, as a knock sounded from the front door. Laurel froze, one step towards her bedroom, mind racing at the implication of someone finding a bloodied and beaten Green Arrow in her living room. She spun back to face the prone vigilante, sensing his fight or flight response kicking in, and raised a hand to him, attempting to placate him. She pressed a finger to her lips and spoke in a hushed tone.

“Stay hidden, I’ll get rid of them.”

He nodded. Laurel turned away and walked over to the door, praying that she had somehow forgotten that she had ordered Chinese. She glanced around at the room behind her and saw no trace of the Green Arrow, the space under the open window hidden behind her couch. She turned back and looked through the peephole, silently groaning as she saw who was standing on the other side. Her father.

With a breath in to steady herself, she opened the door, smiling at the man she revealed.

“Hi, Dad.”

Her father opened his arms with a smile, and she readily entered the hug, feeling better in his embrace in spite of the stressful situation she was in.

“Hey, Sweetheart. Just a quick one while I’m on my way home.”

Laurel stepped to the side and let him walk past her. It would be weird if she forced him to stay on her doorstep. It wasn’t like this was the first time he had dropped by unannounced on his way back from work. Closing the door, she turned to see him studying the papers scattered on her coffee table, a mixture of casefiles and emails from her work at CNRI, a pro-bono law firm working for citizens of the Glades that couldn’t afford to fight the corporations working to take their money and homes.

“You know, Laurel, you really should keep the window closed, you’ll catch a cold at this time of year. Plus, we both know the kind of people that like to take advantage of open windows at night.”

“It’s fine, Dad. I only just opened it. I needed to clear my head after looking at Cyrus Vanch’s case notes for the past few hours.”

Laurel wasn’t completely lying. She had been looking at the notes that she and her colleagues had drafted on Cyrus Vanch the first time they had gone after him, trying to find something to prove his guilt. However, she had been interrupted by the Green Arrow breaking open her window and falling through.

Before she could say anything else, her father strode over to the window and pulled it down, turning the latch to lock it. Laurel was frozen, sure that at any moment her father would discover a badly hidden, bloodied vigilante, and arrest him, injuries be damned. She’d heard enough of the campaign of Quentin Lance verses the Green Arrow. 

But a moment passed. Quentin turned and walked back over to her, eyeing the empty take out boxes spilling out of her bin. No sign that he had noticed anything out of the ordinary. Laurel pressed him with a question before he could spot anything.

“So, not that I don’t enjoy your company, but why did you drop by? Not to comment on if I keep my window open, I suppose?”

Quentin sank down onto the couch, sighing as he took the weight off his feet. 

“Well, a little birdy let slip today that the DA’s office has been looking closely at your work at CNRI. And that they may have offered you a job.”

Laurel couldn’t help but smile at the pride she heard in his words.

“It’s not a job offer exactly.” She said, crossing the room to sit down next to him. “Adam Donner has been making some enquiries into what I’ve been doing at CNRI. Joanna says that she’s heard he’s looking for a new ADA, but nothing’s set in stone yet.”

“Would you accept it if he asked?”

Laurel was taken back by the question. She hadn’t really thought about it up until now, too focused on putting Cyrus Vanch back behind bars. She answered truthfully.

“I don’t know. I mean, becoming district attorney is what I dreamed of becoming at law school, and this would be a huge step for me. But I’ve been doing good work at CNRI. The people of the Glades aren’t getting any less vulnerable, and it’ll be a lot more difficult to do anything about that from the DA’s office.”

Quentin put a hand on her knee comfortingly.

“I know whatever choice you make, it’ll be the right one. You know, I remember when you were younger your dream job was to open a florist.” He joked, nudging him with his shoulder, making her laugh at the memory of her as a small girl running around their local park in summer, picking flowers to create a makeshift bouquet for her mother, and getting told off by an older woman for ‘ruining the natural look of the park’.

“Sherwood Florist. Honestly, I think if I hadn’t gone into law, I would have made an amazing florist.” She grinned, looking over at her father, who smiled back before pulling himself to his feet.

“I’m sure you would, Sweetheart. Right, I’ve got to go, or your mother will be wondering where I’ve gone. Promise me you’ll at least consider the DA job if it does come up. This is a pretty big deal, and opportunities like this don’t come every day.”

Laurel stood up too, following him to the door.

“I promise, Dad. Have a safe journey back, and say hi to Mom for me.”

“I will, Honey. Oh, that reminds me, dinner at ours on Saturday. Sara is coming in for the weekend from Hub City, so no making a work excuse or leaving early, okay?”

Laurel smiled as she leaned against the door frame, her father walking down the hall outside her apartment to the stairs.

“Okay, Dad.”

Quentin smiled back at her and raised a hand as a goodbye before turning the corner out of sight. The smile instantly left her lips as she turned back into her apartment, closing the door behind her, steeling herself for what would undoubtedly be a difficult night ahead.


	2. Introductions

As she heard the latch click shut behind her, Laurel pressed her back to the door and paused. It had been a close call. She had no idea how her father hadn't spotted the hiding, wounded vigilante, but she wasn't going to complain. He must have moved, though Laurel wasn't sure how he had without her noticing, especially in his state. Even someone as stealthy as him would surely make noise with an arrow through the leg.

She pushed off the door and walked to the centre of the room, looking around.

"Arrow?" She asked to the room, moving over to where he had previously been sat to see it now vacated, explaining why her father hadn't immediately raised the alarm. She did notice a few drops of blood, and thanked her lucky stars her father had been more focused on the window.

"Here." Came his muffled reply. Laurel turned around, tracking his voice to the other side of a door slightly cracked open, leading to her bathroom. She pushed the door to reveal the Green Arrow slumped with his back against the bath, mirroring how he had been when he had first entered her apartment. His bow and quiver tossed into the bath itself, some of the arrows spilling out of the container. He lazily rolled his head to look at her, then gestured around the tiled room.

"What rent do you pay to get a bathroom this big?"

Laurel raised an eyebrow, taking a step into the room.

"I don't think this is a great time to be apartment hunting."

The Green Arrow laughed, pushing himself up into a seated position.

"Why not? We can be crime-fighting neighbours. We can have dinner together once a week and talk about the bad guys we beat up."

Laurel grinned despite herself, unable to stop herself from joining in with the light mood.

"Oh yeah, we can split groceries, house-sit for each other when one of us is away. Oh, and I hope you have Netflix 'cause my ex finally realised I've been leeching of his for the last year."

"You've got yourself a deal, so long as you help me move in."

"Ah, that might be a deal breaker. Sorry, GA, guess you'll have to stay put for now."

Green Arrow pouted, sarcastically grumbling his discontent at not being able to move in next door. Laurel found herself smiling at his childish antics. The vigilante's mood infectious; a breath of fresh air from the serious nature of the people she usually surrounded herself with at work.

Something suddenly occurred to her.

"Why are you in my bathroom?"

"You told me to hide. I wasn't sure if your guest would snoop around a little bit, so I thought it was best to get out of there. This was the closest room with a door. Plus, tile makes it a lot easier to mop up blood than carpet, so really I'm just looking out for you."

She had to hand it to him on that point. She'd messed up her carpet more times than she could count from her other job, to the point that she was a pro at getting stains out of most fabrics. It certainly helped for when she had spilt red wine all over her couch.

"Did you hear much of what we said outside?" She asked nervously, kneeling down beside him to see if she could see any sign of his wounds becoming further aggravated.

"Not much." He said, "I heard you say 'dad', so I assume that's who it was, but then I got the door closed. Everything's pretty muffled in here so it was just kind of chatter that I couldn't make out, so no fear, your secrets are all safe."

Apart from my secret identity, thought Laurel. It concerned her that the man before her knew what was most likely the most precious secret she kept when she went out as the Black Canary; her name. She pushed that to the back of her mind as another thought came to her.

"What if my dad needed to use the bathroom? I didn't know you were in here so I wouldn't have stopped him."

"Well, I would obviously have told him it was occupied, and leave you to explain why there was a guy dressed as the Green Arrow bleeding in your bathroom."

Laurel snorted, standing up and turning towards the door.

"I'll be right back. Hopefully I'm done with unexpected callers. I think two is the maximum I can deal with for one night."

She left the bathroom, crossing to her bedroom door, opening it to reveal a mess of dirty clothes, workout equipment, and an unmade bed. She sighed. Working full time as a lawyer and as a vigilante did not leave her a lot of time for chores. She picked her way through the mess to her wardrobe, where she kept her medical bag. When she reached down to pick it up, her hand brushed against a different bag. The bag that contained the gear and clothes she used as the Black Canary.

She didn't think anyone could understand her reasons for taking the fight against crime to the streets as a masked vigilante, which was why she had never told anyone about what she did with her nights. She couldn't bear to think what her dad would say, given his incessant need to take down the Green Arrow. She hoped he would understand, that he would see that what she was doing was for the good of the city, but a small part of her made her hold back. Maybe this would prove to be the perfect opportunity to talk to a like-minded person about the Black Canary.

Picking up her medical bag, she walked back to the bathroom, seeing, as she entered, the Green Arrow struggling to push himself up into a seated position. She dropped the back and crouched down next to him, helping him shift as he grimaced with the effort. Laurel wasn't sure, but it seemed the stains leaking into his jacket had grown slightly.

"How did this happen?" She asked, pulling her bag towards her and beginning to hunt through it for the supplies she needed. He shifted slightly beside her, trying to get comfortable on the cold, hard tiles.

"Got into a fight, and I lost. I've had some pretty solid intel about something going down in the city for a while now, something to do with the Glades. As far as I can tell, a syndicate of some kind have set up shop there and have been funding the majority of the shit that goes down there. All the elites I've gone after are connected to it in one way or another, and it seems they've finally got tired of me being a pain in their ass."

He gestured to the arrow shaft sticking out of his leg.

"They sent someone after me, an enforcer of some kind. Apparently, they really took the phrase 'fight fire with fire' to heart, 'cause he uses a bow, like me. He baited me into fighting him, and obviously I lost."

Laurel pulled on a pair of latex gloves, spreading out bandages, gauze and sterile wipes on the floor beside her as she replied.

"Maybe they wanted to make a statement, sending someone in to deal with you that mimics your fighting style. Or maybe they trained in the same place as you did?"

"Quite possible to the first, definite no to the second."

Laurel glanced up at that statement. The man in front of her was a complete mystery. While she had trained hard in a variety of gyms around the city, finally settling on a Glades-based gym called Wildcat Gym, she had no idea how the Green Arrow had gained the skills he used every night. The Green Arrow continued.

"Annoyingly, wherever this man trained, he obviously gained a higher skill level than me. He was able to outplay me, outshoot me, and outfight me. I'm not sure I'd be able to beat him even if we fought on my terms."

She was surprised by his bluntness. Most people would not be so willing to admit their shortcomings.

"Maybe it's just the blood loss talking," he continued, "but I don't think next time I'll be as lucky as this. I think I'll wind up dead at the bottom of the docks, or as a martyr to stop anyone else from looking into their dealings."

Laurel wasn't sure what to say in response, so she concentrated on patching him up. She immediately spotted a problem.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks like your hood is attached to your jacket, so it's coming off as well. Are you okay with that? I can get you something to cover your head if you like, and you can keep your mask on, but I'm probably going to get to see what you look like under there."

Green Arrow paused, before reaching up and pulling his hood down and lifting his mask from his face, tossing the latter behind him into the bath alongside his bow and quiver. He had shaggy blonde hair that was pushed back out of his face, and blue eyes that seem to radiate confidence and humour.

"Seeing as you showed me yours, not necessarily out of choice, I think it's only fair that I showed you mine. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think you'll shouting my identity to the rooftops any time soon. It's like the cold war or something."

He took off his gloves and began working to remove his armoured gauntlets that held a number of flechettes. Seeing that he was struggling, Laurel reached out and helped him undo the knots that strapped them to his wrists.

"Well, you know my secret identity, so it isn't quite showing everything." She commented, moving to unzip his jacket.

"I'll be honest with you, I have no idea who you are."

Laurel paused, looking up into his eyes, seeing no signs of deceit.

"What do you mean? You knew to come here, and you knew I was the Black Canary before I said anything."

"Technically you did say 'what the fuck'. Look, I know you're the Black Canary, but I don't know who the Black Canary is."

"What?" She was confused. How could he know who she was, but not know who she was?

"About three weeks ago, I saw you entering that window I came in through. Well, I saw the Black Canary go through it. You took your mask off inside, so either you lived there, or someone you trust did. So, I noted the address just in case I was in any kind of trouble, or if I needed to quickly get in touch with you. Kind of glad I did now."

"And you never looked up who lived here? I'm sure it wouldn't be that hard to find out if you really wanted to."

"Why would I want to?" He shrugged, beginning to shimmy his jacket off his shoulders while trying not to move his body too much. "It wouldn't exactly be fair on you, not even knowing that I know where you live, let alone knowing your name. Call it professional courtesy."

"Thank you." Her voice came out quieter than she meant it to, and he nodded in response, catching her eye before she busied herself with pushing his jacket off.

"Speaking of, though, I am not calling you Black Canary all night, and I really don't want you calling me Green Arrow continuously, so how about we say a name for the other person to use?"

"A name?"

"Sure. It doesn't have to be our real names, just something we can call each other that isn't so much a mouthful and has less of a fixation on colour schemes."

Laurel laughed at his comment on colours. It was funny that they both had created alter egos with names based on the colour of their clothes and their attack methods.

"I'll go first." He reached out a red-stained hand for her to take. "Hi, I'm the Green Arrow, I spend my nights beating up bad guys with an assortment of trick arrows I invented, but you can call me Oliver."

She looked into his eyes, trying to figure out if there was any truth in his words. His face revealed nothing, he just looked at her expectantly, waiting for her answer. She opened her mouth, then paused. Should she tell him her real name? Or settle for a pseudonym that she would have to remember? Finally, she came to a decision, smiling and taking his offered hand and shaking it.

"Black Canary. But call me Dinah."


	3. Stories

The two of them were sat in silence as Laurel looked at Oliver's now bare chest. She would like to say she was ogling him, that his muscles had brought out the teenage girl in her and she was frozen in place in admiration and embarrassment. She would like to say that, for the sake of the man in front of her, but the truth she could barely believe.

Oliver's chest was a patchwork of scars and injuries, some looking fresh, likely caused from his more recent exploits as a vigilante, but others looked four or five years old, fading around the edges rather than standing out angrily against his skin. There was barely any part of him that wasn't marred in some way, and Laurel couldn't help but reach out to trace a particularly large one across his abdomen.

"Oliver, what happened?" She asked, reaching over to her supplies to find a temporary binding that would allow her to work on one of the wounds without worrying that he would bleed out from the other one.

"It's not pretty is it. A mixture of my night time activities and how I came to be who I am."

"Is that a giant bite mark?" She pointed to a large scar on his side that resembled a bite, from a creature with sharp, pointed teeth.

"Oh, yeah, that was a shark. Turns out punching them on the nose genuinely works." He said casually, far too casually for someone admitting that they punched a shark on the nose while it was biting him.

"I'll tell you what, Dinah," he continued, "a stitch up for a story sounds like a good deal."

And so, as Laurel began to clean and disinfect his first wound, he began to speak.

"I suppose the Green Arrow started almost six years ago now. I was stranded on an island, and I had to learn pretty quickly to survive. It wasn't a good place. There was a lot of bad people there, and I went through a lot of trials that almost killed me, but I survived and made it home. This," he pointed to an ugly scar near his shoulder, "this is the first scar I got, funnily enough from an arrow. I got shot by a man, Yao Fei, who ended up being one of the only good people on the island. He died saving my life."

Laurel looked up from where she was threading a needle, ready to begin closing the wound. His face showed no emotion, but his eyes swirled with grief.

"He saved me multiple times in my first year there, either literally, or from the training he gave me. He's the reason I use a bow. The first time was after I was captured by mercenaries on the island. Their leader, Edward Fyres," he motioned to the long, clean scars on his stomach, "had me tortured, trying to make me give up the location of Yao Fei. I didn't, Yao Fei saved me, and I lived to see another day. We ended up finding and saving a few more people, including Yao Fei's daughter, Shado, and an ASIS agent, Slade Wilson, who got stranded on the island when his plane was shot down. The four of us took down Fyres and worked on a way to get off the island."

Oliver paused, taking a moment to compose himself.

"None of them made it. Yao Fei died first, a sword through his chest from the guy who tortured me. We don't know how he survived, but he managed to cut down Yao Fei before Slade could kill him. Apparently, his name was Billy Wintergreen. He had been in the plane crash with Slade, an ASIS agent as well. Technically Slade was next. A man, Anthony Ivo, came to the island, searching for some miracle cure for his dying wife. We got into conflict, and he ended up fire-bombing the island. Slade was hit. He was dying, his face burned and body shutting down from the pain. So, when Shado found the cure, the Mirakuru, as Ivo called it, we gave it to him, hoping he would live. Ivo captured us before we could find out if it worked. He left Slade where he lay, tears of blood down his face, and took us out to the beach. He got us to kneel down and look out to the horizon. He knew how hard we had been working to get off that island, and he wanted us to see that it was all for nothing. Then he shot Shado in the back of the head beside me."

Laurel's hands were shaking slightly, either out of anger or sadness, she didn't know. In a short space of time, Oliver had faced off against two psychopaths, and this was before he became the Green Arrow. No one should have to go through that.

"Apparently the Mirakuru worked, because seconds later, Slade burst through the trees, screaming. He tore through the mercenaries there, but Ivo managed to get away. I always though Slade loved Shado, and it was clear from the way he reacted it was true. He promised he was going to destroy Ivo, so we made a plan to take the fight to him, aboard his ship, the Amazo. We killed his crew and cornered Ivo, but something went wrong. There was an explosion. The boat started sinking. I told Slade we had to go, but he was hell-bent on killing Ivo, and nothing was going to stop him. Last I saw before I made it off the ship was Slade with his sword through Ivo's chest, and a beam falling towards the both of them. I waited, but he never made it to shore. He died in that wreckage because his vengeance took over him. And so, I was alone."

"Jesus..." Laurel wasn't sure what to say. What Oliver was describing was more than she had expected from the jovial vigilante. "How did you survive all of that?"

"Honestly? A lot of luck. I had good friends who taught me a lot and kept me alive, and I learnt quickly how to protect myself. Everything that I am today was forged on that island. I thought a lot about my family, too. I wanted to get back home to them, to stay safe for them. That gave me the drive I needed to survive. Anyway, what would be the point in getting all depressed about the situation, wouldn't exactly help me much. So, I started seeing the brightness in the shitty world I was in, enjoy any moments I could, and keep my humour the best I could. As bad as it was, I don't think I've felt as peaceful, or as free, as I did on that island. I have as many good memories about it as I do bad memories."

Laurel smiled as she covered the freshly stitched wound with a clean gauze, taping it down.

"That's a good outlook to have. I'm sorry that you had to go through that, though."

"I'm not. I'm not saying that it didn't suck the majority of the time, but without those years away, I never would have become the man I am now. Everyone I have saved since being back would have been successfully preyed upon or killed, and everyone I have taken down would be free to continue destroying this city."

Laurel was silent as she moved onto the second wound. She wasn't sure she would be able to say the same if she had gone through what Oliver had gone through.

"Either way, I survived all the shit Fyres and Ivo could through at me. Spent the next few years alone on the island, continuously training to survive, hunting, that sort of thing. Learnt how to fish which was pretty cool. It was lonely, and sometimes I thought I was going to go insane. I think the first time I properly spoke was to the people that found me, and I didn't speak English until a few days after. I was happy to be home after all that time, but it wasn't the place that I remembered. Everything had changed at home when I was away, and the city had become a cesspit of crime. Sometimes I wonder if it was always that way and I just never noticed. I was confronted with the fact that my dreams on the island about my home had been warped and false. But what could I do, right? I was just a guy in a big city who had just come back from being stranded for years. One day, I was walking in the Glades, and these 3 guys grabbed me and pushed me into an alley. Their plan was to mug me, but it didn't really go the way they were expecting. I waited an hour after calling the police, but they never came. Apparently, that isn't so unusual for the Glades. Assholes like that are allowed to get off, people keep getting mugged, and the police don't seem to care. That's when I decided to put the skills I had learned to good use, and so the Green Arrow was born."

There was silence between them for a few seconds as Laurel look in everything Oliver had said.

"That's one hell of a story."

She wasn't lying. She could appreciate his reasons for becoming a vigilante. Star City had always been a safe haven for criminals and corrupt businessmen to prey on the vulnerable.

"What about you?" He asked, grimacing slightly as she began to sew up his wound. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Well, it's not completely different to your story. Minus the island and the torture, of course. I suppose for me everything I've done can be tracked back to my parents. My dad's a cop, so he was pretty big on me learning how to protect myself. I've taken self-defence classes since I was five, moving onto mixed martial arts, and finally boxing. I got pretty good, too. Won a lot of competitions and made a bit of a name for myself. Then it all went to shit. I was in Central City for a competition when the particle accelerator exploded. It changed me somehow, gave me the Canary Cry. I was out for six months in a coma, and when I woke up, it was like my entire perception had changed. I could see truly how bad it had gotten in Star, and I knew I needed to do something about it. I couldn't do anything in my day job to stop the corruption and crime, so I started training harder than I ever had before. I didn't know what I was training for, but I knew I had to be ready."

"What made you decide to become the Black Canary?"

Laurel paused, wondering how much she should reveal to Oliver. She decided he was unlikely to use anything he found out against her, not after everything he told her.

"We aren't the first vigilantes to come to Star City. In the early 80s there was a duo that protected the city like we are now, although admittedly with less arrows. One of them was Wildcat, the other was the Black Canary."

"Not you, I assume. Or are you also immortal along with the sonic scream?"

"Just the Canary Cry, I'm afraid. They were active before I was born. Wildcat stopped around '83, Black Canary kept going until '85. The twentieth of April 1985."

"Just before I was born. How do you know the exact date she stopped? Did she die?"

"No, she didn't die. She found out she was pregnant. With me. The original Black Canary was my mom."

She didn't look at Oliver, choosing to instead busy herself with dressing his wound. To his credit, Oliver didn't react, letting the revelation hang in the air.

"She quit being a vigilante so she could have me and raise me, without having to worry if I'd grow up without a mother. She put me before this city, so when I found out, I thought it was only right that I put the city before me."

"How did you find out?"

"She told me. After I woke up, I was arguing with my dad a lot. He tried to ban me from going back to work in the Glades, saying how it wasn't safe. I argued it wasn't safe because cops don't care about the people living there, or are paid enough not to care. We got into a shouting match one day and I ended up leaving the house. I just needed to get out of there before I did or said something stupid. I ended up in the Glades at about 2am, just wandering around. I didn't have any objective, just walking. Then four guys tried to jump me."

Laurel felt Oliver tense slightly at her words.

"I suppose they thought four of them was more than enough to make me do whatever they wanted. Looking back, I'm glad they decided to go after me rather than some other poor girl who didn't know how to defend herself. In the moment, though, I was angry. Angry that people like that were allowed to get away with whatever they wanted. That was the first time I discovered my Canary Cry. Brought on by emotion and instinct, apparently. It knocked one of them out, but I had to fight the other three off. I almost had it, but I was sloppy. They got too many good hits in, and it turns out criminals don't really like to play fair."

Laurel pulled away from Oliver's completed dressings and lifted the bottom of her shirt to reveal a pale scar that stood out against her tanned skin.

"First Canary Cry, first fist fight outside a boxing ring, and first time being stabbed. Didn't realise how much blood comes out. I was just lying there bleeding out, unable to do anything but try to hold the wound closed and pray someone would find me. Luckily someone passing heard me scream and called an ambulance. Just two months and already back in hospital. My dad could barely bring himself to see me. He said he couldn't bare seeing me lying there, knowing that he was the reason I stormed out in the first place. We're in a good place now, but it took us a long time to come to terms with everything that happened that night."

"That's good. Family is important." Oliver said, and Laurel could hear a touch of sadness to his tone. Laurel filed it away to ask him about later.

"My mom was weirdly calm about the whole thing. She and my sister visited me every day, keeping me updated on what was going on in Star. When I got discharged it was just my mom. She said we were going to take a walk so I could get some fresh air. I'd already told her about what happened, about the sonic scream, about beating those guys up, about feeling lucky it was me and not someone completely defenceless. So, she told me everything. About the Black Canary, about Wildcat, and about the Canary Cry. She told me what it felt like to save people from muggers and rapists, to go after rich bastards who thought the law couldn't touch them, and she said now it was my turn, if I wanted it. She put me in touch with Wildcat, told him to train me up to a good enough standard that I could take down bad guys effectively, and to get me a suit. I took up my mom's mantle, and the rest, I suppose, is history."

"I've got to be honest, I didn't expect the 'my mom was a vigilante from the 80s and now I use her name to punch bad guys' angle."

Laurel snorted, stripping her gloves from her hands and putting on a fresh pair, beginning to study the arrow shaft sticking out Oliver's leg.

"Do they still help you out? Your mom and Wildcat, I mean."

"No. Wildcat never wanted to be part of it, said he'd help train me and patch me up if I was ever in big trouble, but the vigilante life was behind him, and he wanted nothing to do with it. He has too much to lose now. As for my mom, she's not the same young spry person she used to be. She works long hours and volunteers most of the rest of her time. She doesn't have the capacity to be running after me over rooftops or hacking into security cameras. I'm kind of on my own."

Laurel looked down, almost embarrassed by her words. So what if she didn't have support? She was doing fine on her own. She felt Oliver's hand on hers, comforting her.

"Me too. I haven't told anyone anything, about what happened on the island or what I've been doing since I've got back. I'd give anything to tell my mom and my sister about it, but they wouldn't understand. I think my mom would lock me up somewhere to stop me from doing something so reckless, and my sister is only 15. She's too young to know what this city is like for normal people in the Glades. Part of the reason I do this is so she never has to know."

"What about your dad?"

Oliver looked away, clenching and unclenching his fist, as if wrapping it around his bow.

"He's dead. He died in the shipwreck that stranded me on that island. He wasn't a good man, but his last act was telling me to right the wrongs he had caused this city, and killing himself so I could survive. Something else I haven't told my family."

Laurel quickly reached out and grabbed his clenched hand, squeezing it tight.

"You shouldn't have had to go through that. I'm sorry."

Oliver looked at her and gave a weak smile, eyes shining slightly as he tried to compose himself.

"You know, I'm thinking more and more about moving in next door. These late-night slumber parties are very therapeutic."


	4. Chapter 4

"It was a clean shot. Not meant to kill me, just slow me down. He's cocky, but has the skills to back it up."

Laurel was looking through her bag for some fresh gauze and a large bandage as Oliver spoke, referring to the arrow sticking through his thigh.

"I already snapped the head off to stop it from doing any more damage, and as far as I can tell it hasn't hit any bones or arteries. Just carefully pull it out and bandage it and I'll be good to go."

"You seem a little bit too knowledgably about pulling arrows out of yourself."

"Working alone means you have to learn pretty quickly how to stitch yourself. At the end of the day, there isn't much difference between being shot with a bullet or an arrow."

Laurel had to give it to him. Having to rely on herself meant she had become good at treating any wounds she sustained while fighting on the streets of Star City, as well as hiding limps and grimaces in her day-to-day life.

"Okay," she said, putting on another pair of clean gloves, "you're going to have to strip before I wrap you up, or you'll be stuck with a bandage around your leathers which really won't be much help."

Oliver nodded in agreement, sitting up a little straighter in preparation while being careful not to aggravate his stitches.

"On three, I'll pull the arrow out, you push your trousers down past the wound, then help hold the gauze as I sterilise and clean up the blood, then wrap the bandages. Sound good?"

"Do you have any alcohol?"

Laurel look at him, confused.

"Large wounds like this are hard to clean with wipes. Alcohol helps disinfect and wash the area quickly and has the added benefit of supplying a little liquid courage."

Laurel thought for a second, then stood up and walked out of the bathroom, making her way to a kitchen cupboard which held, among other things, a large bottle of vodka that had been given to her as a graduation present. She usually preferred something that didn't leave her with a banging headache and vomit everywhere in the morning.

Making her way back to Oliver, she saw that he had pushed his trousers down as far as they could go without moving the arrow shaft still firmly lodged in his leg.

Kneeling down, she unscrewed the lid and handed the bottle to Oliver, who took a long swig before looking at the label, seemingly unfazed by the strong-tasting vodka.

"'Stolichnaya Elit'. Russian. Good choice." He said, handing it back to her and looking at her expectantly.

She paused, looking back at him, before taking a shot of the foul-smelling liquid, grimacing as it burned her throat.

"Let me guess, you aren't much of a drinker?" Oliver laughed as she sent him a glare.

"I've had that bottle since the end of college and I've only got that far through it. What do you think?" She replied, placing the vodka on the tiles and grasping the protruding arrow.

"This is probably going to hurt. Do you want anything to bite down on or something?"

"I'll be fine." He said, taking a few deep breaths to prepare himself. "It'll be nice to have an arrow removed by someone that cares a little bit about me"

"Hold on, who said anything about caring about you? I'm just here for your Netflix, remember?" She grinned.

Oliver pouted and mumbled under his breath about how rude and inconsiderate she was being, which just made Laurel's smile widen. This was why she didn't drink a lot of alcohol; it made her do things she usually never would. Like laugh at men acting playfully childish while bleeding on her bathroom floor.

Seeing a nod from Oliver as he composed herself, Laurel took a breath to steady herself, then pulled at the arrow, happily seeing it slide easily out with an accompanying trickle of blood.

As soon as it was out of his leg, Oliver pushed his trousers down to his knees, letting her see the fresh blood oozing out of his thigh and pooling on the ground. Taking hold of the still open bottle of alcohol beside her, she up-ended in and let it spill over his leg, causing him to hiss in pain. She then grabbed two sterile wipes and quickly cleaned any excess blood that stained his skin, before passing two gauzes to Oliver and telling him to hold them to the open wounds as she wound a bandage around his leg.

"So, what are you going to do about this syndicate?" She asked, ensuring the bandage was tight and secure while still allowing blood flow. There was a long pause before he replied.

"Truthfully? I have no idea. My entire time as the Green Arrow has been leading up to this point; cutting away at the infection that is destroying this city until I could attack it at the source. But now I'm here, I don't know what to do."

He paused, clenching his left hand slightly. Laurel realised it must be a coping mechanism for him, to clench his fist like he did when out as the Green Arrow. Using a bow was, ironically, probably when he felt most safe. She knew how comforting it was to have something by your side you knew you could count on when it mattered. Finally, he looked her in the eyes, and she could see the struggle that was evident on his face.

"They're going to destroy the Glades. That's what I've been fighting. I thought it was just the wealthy stepping on the poor to get what they want, but it's more than that. If I stop now, if I let them continue, then hundred, if not thousands will lose their lives. But I'll be alive. I'll be able to keep fighting, keep taking on the corrupt, save future lives that would be affected if I wasn't there to stop it."

"But all those people would die. The people you came back to save. They'll all be lost."

Oliver nodded grimly, now failing to meet her gaze, as if he didn't want her to judge him for even thinking about it.

"If I fight, then I might be able to stop them, and I might be able to take down the syndicate, but I'll probably die in the process. I don't think I can beat their enforcer. Whatever training he's had, I can't plan for it, and I can't out manoeuvre him. I'm still in the dark when it comes to most of their plans. I don't even know how they're going to do it. And if I die before I can stop them, then all those people in the Glades will die anyway, and any future victims won't have me to protect them. The corrupt won't have anyone to hold them accountable in the way that I have been, unless you feel like rebranding yourself as the anti-billionaire vigilante. Either way, I lose."

Laurel could see now why he was struggling so much with this. It was a tough decision, one that she was glad wasn't on her to make. She started putting unused bandages and wipes back into her bag while Oliver is silent, obviously deep in thought. She snapped it shut and stood up.

"What would you do?" Oliver asked, looking up at her with an unreadable expression on his face. She didn't reply straight away, considering the question.

"I don't know either. Either way seems like the losing one. What I do know, is that if I didn't at least try, it would tear me up inside."

She turned and left the bathroom, once again entering her bedroom and placing the medical kit back where she got it from before hunting around in the bottom of her wardrobe to grab a scrunched-up pair of grey jogging bottoms and a large, loose-fitting t-shirt. She walked back to bathroom to see Oliver still on the bathroom floor and still in thought. She leaned on the door frame and studied him.

"You okay?" She asked. Her voice was soft, but it seemed to startle him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Tough decision is all." He started pulling his dark leather trousers up his legs over his bandage, making Laurel rush over to stop him.

"Woah, woah, woah, mister. There is no way I am letting you put on all that crap after spending so long patching you up."

"I can't really get home in my underwear, Dinah, or the press will be coming up with a completely different nickname for me." She swatted his hands away as he tried to continue to get dressed

"You aren't going home like that. Knowing you, you'll be jumping from rooftops and reopen all your stitches, if you don't fall first from blood loss. Here," she thrusted the clothes she had grabbed into his hands, "put these on. They were my ex's. He, uh, left them here when we broke up. They should fit you. You can sleep on my couch tonight and I'll drive you home in the morning." She spun around, leaving a stunned Oliver to get changed in privacy.

She stood in her living room and ran a hand through her hair. When she had been woken up from dozing on the couch by a thudding noise, she had been expecting thieves, or to find a bird dazed on her fire escape from crashing into her window. She had not been expecting a bleeding Green Arrow, and she hadn't been expecting for things to get so personal. They had spoken to each other before as their alter-egos, but never as 'Oliver' and 'Dinah'. She used to disapprove of his choice of targets, ignoring what was happening on the streets and going after high-profile billionaires. Her father had always been of the opinion that he chose to go after them to get his name in the papers. Now Laurel thought she understood. He was doing everything he could to save this city, even putting his life on the line to do it. And that was something she could agree with.

A slight creak behind her notified her of Oliver's presence, and she turned to see him dressed in the joggers and t-shirt.

"I left my leathers in the bath, hope you don't mind. Figure I'll need a bag for them before I go home."

"It's fine," she replied, "I'll call in sick tomorrow and drive you back."

"Dinah, no. You've already done enough. I can make my own way home."

"Hate to break it to you, Oliver, but you really aren't going to win this one. Call it professional courtesy."

Oliver chuckled and put his hands up in defeat, smiling at her with tired eyes. She suddenly realised how much this night must have taken out of him, physically and mentally. It was a surprise he hadn't dropped from exhaustion already. She bent down and reached under the couch and pulled out a pillow and a blanket, passing them to him and pointing at the couch.

"Sleep, now. And don't think about leaving or I'll kick your ass, injured or not."

He smiled again, mirth in his eyes at her threat, and sits down, looking up at her.

"Thank you, Dinah. Seriously. For stitching me up, for listening, and for being a good person. As Dinah and the Black Canary. This city wouldn't be half as good without you."

She felt her cheeks warm slightly at the compliment, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"Goodnight, Oliver."

"Goodnight, Dinah."

Laurel walked over to the light switch, looking back at Oliver's now prone form. A surprising night, but not necessarily a bad one, she thought, as she switched the light off and made her way to bed.


	5. Deal

Laurel groaned as her sleep was interrupted by the loud ringing of her alarm. She fumbled around in the semi-darkness, peaking through bleary eyes to find the culprit, finally ending the noise with a swipe of her finger on her phone. She lay there for a second, a line of sunlight spilling through her curtains and bathing her room in a dim light. Squinting, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up, wondering why she's so tired.

Oh.

Last night had been...interesting to say the least. She had certainly not expected to find the Green Arrow on her floor in need of assistance. And now he was sleeping on her couch. She let out a small laugh at the absurdity that her life had become.

Now being able to see a little clearer, she rolled over onto her side and grabbed her phone, sending a quick message to her boss at CNRI that she was feeling ill and wouldn't be in that day. She then stretched out, feeling some of her joints pop and muscles complain at the movement, and stood up, making her way over to the door and opening it.

She had expected to find Oliver passed out still, the toll of the previous night resulting in him sleeping like the dead. Instead, she saw bright light streaming in through open curtains, and a folded blanket resting on a pillow on the couch.

Laurel paused. She hadn't expected him to leave like it was a one night stand. Disappointment bloomed in her chest as she realised she might have misinterpreted the situation. She had considered them equals, but as it turned out, he only needed her for an easy patch up. Was any of what he said true? Or was it just filler shit to get her to shut up and fix his wounds. She was starting to get angry now. She finally felt like someone understood her, finally appreciated why she became a vigilante, and it turns out he was a playboy with a fetish for leather. So much for moving in next door and sharing a Netflix subscription.

"Morning."

There he was. Not on the other side of town without saying goodbye. Standing in her kitchen trying to work her coffee machine.

"I think you need to get groceries, 'cause your fridge is pretty bare. Coffee?"

Getting quickly over her anger, which had morphed into surprise, she smiled.

"I thought you left." She said, joining him in the small kitchen to grab two mugs from a cupboard.

"I believe I was threatened with an ass kicking, so I didn't think it would be in my best interest." He joked, finally realising the machine was unplugged.

"You've got that right. As for the fridge, I don't really cook that much so I don't bother with groceries. Dinner is usually takeaway or some of my dad's leftovers that he brings round." She said. Oliver replied with a snort.

"Good to hear you eat so healthily. Another thing I came to appreciate when I was away was a hot, cooked meal."

"Well, if you want, you can always leave me some leftovers on the fire escape. I might even heat them up before I eat them."

Oliver laughed, using a dishcloth to clean up a small spillage he had caused. Laurel could see that he was a little stiff in his movements, a sign of the injuries that were hidden beneath his t-shirt.

"I got the day off," she said, accepting the steaming cup that was offered to her, "so I can take you home whenever you're ready."

"You didn't have to do that." He said, turning to face her with his own coffee cup in hand. She smiled.

"No, I didn't." Oliver shook his head with a grin at her answer, taking a sip of coffee.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, stepping back to look at him properly.

"Stiff, but I'm used to that at least. My family will ask questions, but I'll just make something up. Disguising this limp is going to be hard, though. Luckily, my family think I'm a reckless party boy, so I can always play it off as getting wasted and doing something stupid."

Laurel raised he eyebrow but didn't comment. She never would have thought the guy in front of her now would have been a frat boy. He cared too much for that. There was something more pressing on her mind, though.

"What about the syndicate?"

Oliver doesn't answer straight away, opting instead to fidget with his cup and avoid her gaze. She let him take his time.

"I have to keep going after them. If there's any chance that I can stop them, then I have to take it, no matter what the consequences are. I have to be quick, though. If their enforcer catches wind that I'm still after them then there will be a rematch, and I'm pretty sure I can guess what the outcome will be."

Laurel nods. He's thought it out tactically, like he's fighting a war. Surprising the enemy with an attack when they are relaxed. Although, maybe he hasn't considered everything.

"What about if you had an advantage?" she asked, and Oliver looked at her quizically. "What about if I helped you?"

Oliver looked stunned.

"You would do that? Even after seeing me bleeding on your bathroom floor?"

"You said thousands would die. I couldn't live knowing I did nothing to stop that from happening. And if I can save you while I'm at it, that seems worth a few cuts and scrapes."

Oliver's face breaks into a huge grin, and Laurel swears she can see a tension in his shoulders lessen slightly.

"Seriously, Dinah, you've already done so much for this city, and for me. Thank you."

"Well, at least you aren't too big-headed to accept help when you need it." She joked, finishing her coffee with a large gulp.

"More like too stupid to accept it." He replied, taking her empty cup from her and depositing both by the sink.

"Well, we have the whole day free, unless you have something to get to. Where do we start?" Laurel asks, watching Oliver's morph from a grin to a frown.

"My mother." He says finally, fist once again clenching slightly. Laurel froze. Suddenly the whole situation gained a new perspective. Of course Oliver was struggling with it if his own family was involved.

"Your mother?" She asked tentatively, and Oliver nodded.

"Well, the syndicate is made up of the rich and powerful members of Star City's elite, so it makes sense my family would be involved." He said, before smiling at her and sticking his hand out for her to shake.

"Hi, I'm Oliver Queen."

She had not been expecting that, but she supposed she should have worked it out. He told her he had been stranded on an island almost 6 years ago, right around when Oliver Queen had gone missing, and the Green Arrow had made his first appearance not long after Oliver Queen was found in the South China sea. She tried to remember if she had ever seen a picture of him, but it wasn't like she frequently read gossip magazines about what the billionaires of Star City were up to.

"That is honestly the most surprising thing to come out of this experience, and I kind of feel stupid for not realising it earlier. Prodigal son returns and takes down the criminal elite with nothing but a bow and arrows." She then took Oliver's hand and shook it firmly. If he could trust her completely, then she could trust him.

"Dinah Laurel Lance. My friends call me Laurel." Oliver smiled widely in response, letting go of her hand and leaning against the counter.

"Well, Dinah Laurel Lance," he said, "before anything, we are going to get breakfast because I am starving. Though we might need to make a stop so I can get changed into some of my own clothes."

Laurel had to agree with him, about breakfast and about ditching her ex's clothes. Her stomach rumbled, and she realised that she wasn't dressed for leaving her apartment either.

"Breakfast sounds good. As well as getting changed. Give me five minutes and we can go." She agrees, turning to walk to her bedroom, before pausing and turning to look at him.

"Oh, and Oliver? Seeing as I know you're a billionaire now, you can pay." She hears him chuckle as she exits the room.

"Whatever you say, pretty bird."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of this work. This is the first time I've ever posted my writing on the internet, so thank you for coming along for the ride. I hope to keep uploading, maybe even writing a sequel to this if people want me to. But for now, see you next time!


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